The One With The Balloon Apocolypse
by CassandraHolly
Summary: Or, 'The One Where Harry Considers Totally Justified Mass Murder'. Sixty seven verses of Happy Birthday, uncalled for gymnastics displays and a ban on sharp objects can do that to people.


Verse sixty- two of 'Happy Birthday To You' was in full swing as Harry entered the house (and briefly considered leaving again). Making his way through to the living room, he found Giovanna sitting on the sofa with her eyes closed, one hand wrapped firmly around an empty cup and the other clinging for what appeared to be her life to Tom, who's position was similar (and hadn't appeared to change since Harry had left the house half an hour ago).

"You dead?" Harry questioned, leaning over the back of the sofa and staring at Giovanna's face.

"Not quite."

"Well, you're doing a passable impression of somebody who is."

"I've had practise. Sixty two verses of it."

Harry looked to the direction of the dining room, where the singing was coming from. If he listened hard enough he could make out familiar voices- but, if he listened hard enough, his ears started to wage war on his head.

"Is Izzy here yet?"

"I think I heard her screams as they dragged her in to the pits of Hell, yes." Giovanna mumbled.

"Make more coffee." Tom murmured. Harry took the cups from both of them and started towards the kitchen. "Hope you didn't forget to write me into your will."

"I didn't, actually. I left you both my house and the instructions on how to kill Danny and Dougie in their sleep."

"A plane ticket to Morocco would have been preferred, but thanks all the same."

Loping in to the kitchen, Harry flicked on the kettle, put some coffee in three cups and began heaping out the sugar. One for Giovanna, two for Tom, sixty million for himself...

"Harry! You're back!"

The voice could only be described as chipper, an emotion Harry went to great extents to avoid, so his body language was understandably long suffering as he turned to face the source.

"Hello, Cassie."

"Today is no day to be long suffering, Harry, my man. Nay, today is a day to be light hearted and jolly, for today is the birthday of none other than your beloved girlfriend!"

"I appear to have misplaced my jolly. I have a suspicion it might be buried under the painful memories of the last birthday party you planned- my own, if I remember correctly."

"And a fabulous party it was too. Dig deep, my dear, and rediscover the jolly, or let the jolly find _you _and be forever in it's debt."

"What does that even _mean_?"

"Did you get the cake?"

"Yes, I got the cake-"

"Then it doesn't matter!"

And she was gone, so Harry turned back to the kettle and began pouring the coffee. Sometimes he still wondered why Dougie had picked, out of six and a half billion people on this planet, _Cassie_ to be his 'one', but thinking about it for too long required effort and in Cassie's case there was no effort to be spared.

Verse sixty five of 'Happy Birthday' began, new harmonies a-plenty, and Harry trudged back to the living room with the tea. Giovanna and Tom were in exactly the same position as they had been when he left, and Harry decided that the only class either really benefited from in the Sylvia Young Academy of Drama was Play Dead 101.

"It doesn't matter how long you stay still for, they're not going away. Not until they've had cake, anyway."

"Shouldn't you be saving your girlfriend from the fate befalling her in there?"

"One has to wonder if it's really worth it."

"One agrees it is not, but one points out that the famous saying goes 'If you can't beat them, join them', which would insinuate that your girlfriend will turn in to one of them and you'll be stuck living with it forever more."

"One concedes this is a good point. If I'm not back in twenty minutes, assume the worst and... stay where you are."

With that, Harry ventured in to the dining room, the figurative pit of Hell in the world of Tom's house.

"Happy Birthday! To! You! Happy Birthday! To! You!"

The balloons were _everywhere. _There had to be fifty more than the last time he had looked in earlier that day. Harry wondered who had paid for them and decided it was probably Danny armed with Giovanna's credit card.

Searching through the sea of rubber, flailing arms, champagne and out of tune wails, he found Izzy, sitting on the table and laughing as she hit balloons towards Georgia.

Maybe she was immune to the insanity. Harry made a note to inject some of whatever it was in her genes into his own later on before making his way over to the table. Over the happy singing he put his lips to her ear and whispered, 'Happy Birthday, love."  
"Harry!" She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him before turning to punch away an alarmingly fast- moving balloon missile aimed straight at her head.

"Happy, B-B-Birthday To You You!" The voices roared. Harry looked up to see if anybody else had arrived yet. Dougie, Danny, Cassie and Georgia were still dancing around the room. He had seen James Bourne come in as he had left to get the cake, and Matt and his own girlfriend, Emma, were throwing balloons at Dougie. All were singing at a volume Harry was sure was illegal in the centre of London.

"It makes you wonder how they broke in to the music industry." Izzy commented amiably.

"Money exchanged hands," Harry said seriously, "And sex of the oral variety was given."

"Dare I ask who gave it?"

"I wouldn't." Harry looked up to see Matt Willis standing over him, a smile stretched from ear to ear that reminded him distinctly of a Cheshire Cat.

"Hazzer!" Matt crowed, in either delight or foreboding- one could never tell with Matt.

"Hey, Matt. How's things?"

"Oh, they're great. Great things. Things greater than... two short great things."

A balloon bounced off his left ear, and to Harry's relief the grin turned to face Danny instead. A small fight ensued in which Danny ended up on the floor with a popped balloon halfway up his left nostril. The singing, of course, continued.

* * *

Half an hour later, Harry's original plan to grab Izzy and run had been scrapped, and he had long since realised that escape was impossible.

This was partly because Cassie was doing a handstand in front of the door, and partly because James and Dougie had tied her feet up, which meant if any escape was to be made it was either out of the window or between her legs, neither of which he really wanted to resort to.

At least Izzy was enjoying herself.

At least they had stopped singing.

At least Tom and Giovanna still had a chance of survival.

The stereo had been turned on and the Macarena was blasting out through the surround sound, a song that brought back not- so- fond memories of primary school discos. Sinking deeper in to the wooden chair he was currently dying on, Harry surveyed the scene with a critical eye.

The balloons had seemingly procreated, and Tom's house was in danger of a balloon apocalypse. Matt had Dougie open mouthed with admiration at his ability to mould balloon animals, which Danny had attempted to copy (the end result being a 'balloon sausage' and, later on, a work of modern art Danny had entitled 'Popped Balloon'). James was sitting cross legged next to Cassie and the two were involved in what appeared to be deep and meaningful conversation, both apparently oblivious to the fact that Cassie was still upside down and seemed in danger of bursting fifty blood vessels in her face. Georgia and Izzy were doing the macarena with gusto, and the television was turned to 'The Lion King'.

The door opened. Giovanna came in, opened her mouth, looked down, and closed it. Cassie lifted her chin to her chest to smile brightly at her.

Giovanna shook her head and opened her mouth again. "Who wants cake?"

The roar of appreciation was instant. Excitement returned, and even Harry had to smile as Tom appeared next to Giovanna with the lit birthday cake. He, too, stopped when he reached Cassie. James hurriedly put his hands under her armpits and lifted her so she was horizontal, allowing Tom access to the room, then dropped her again. She hit ground and bounced as the straps holding her feet up snapped, landing in a puddle of hysterical laughter in front of Giovanna.

Tom opened his mouth.

Harry launched up, the word 'No!' on his lips, but too late- Tom was singing.

He realised his error as the room burst into _yet another _chorus of Happy Birthday, and went pale; Harry dejectedly sank back and let out a deep sigh.

Needless to say, it was an unusually long time before the candles were blown out; long enough that half of them had burnt out anyway, so Izzy had only half a wish.

After the exaggerated applause, there was an awkward silence in which everybody looked from the cake to Tom.

"We need," Dougie said, as if working something out, "A knife."

Tom shrugged. "I don't trust any one of you with knives."

"So you put a plastic spoon there instead." Matt said flatly.

"That would appear to be the case, yes."

Nine pairs of eyes surveyed the cake with the critical air of Simon Cowell. Tom and Harry just looked at each other, sharing a look of long suffering. Giovanna, Harry noted, had already succumbed to the antics of her guests.

Some just couldn't fight the extremities of Danny Jones.

At that moment, Danny himself stood up on the table. "As chief executive of this gathering-"

"Off the table!"

"Sorry, Tom." Danny hopped down, landing on Dougie's foot. "As chief executive of this gathering, I declare that a spoon will just- not- _cut it_. Literally." He turned to Giovanna.

"Giovanna, I beg of you- Wow, you look exceptional in that dress- to spare us a knife- and oh, your hair is just intricately woven strands of unadulterated beauty today- for this cake."

Giovanna, succumbing to the charms of Danny Jones, scuttled off to the kitchen, and Tom glowered at Danny. "Do you even know what thosewords_ mean?"_

"Why would I?"

Giovanna skipped back over to the cake and handed the knife to Izzy. Izzy, known for her ability to avoid time wasting at all costs, slammed it in to the cake. A piece flew off and James caught it in his mouth.

"Oh," He said, eyes lighting up, "Oh, that's _nice_."

Izzy sliced up the cake in record speed, took her slice and darted back as the pack of cake- crazed lunatics swarmed. There was another small scuffle between Matt and Danny, this one resolved with an icing flower in Matt's ear.

"Please refrain from confectionery fisticuffs in here, the carpets cost the same as a small car-"Tom had to raise his voice to make himself heard, but was rewarded with a slice of cake in the face. He stripped it off, stuffed it in his mouth, swallowed, and continued.

Eventually, everybody was satisfied. That was a feat in itself. What was even _more _miraculous was that, now distracted with cake, Cassie was not swinging from lampshades, hanging upside down from doors or even playing tonsil hockey with Dougie. Dougie, for his part, had made good on his promise to the others that she wouldn't jump James Bourne's bones the minute he entered the house. He had also sworn her to sanity concerning the swimming pool in the garden.

Pity he had forgot to talk to her about the random gymnastics displays.

* * *

"Alright," Giovanna said the minute her cake was finished. "Who wants to go in the pool?"

"No!" Matt's shriek of fear outweighed the noises of agreement. "No swimming for two hours! You die if you eat then swim without waiting! You cramp up and the sharks get you!"

After being enlightened about the lack of sharks in Tom and Gi's pool, he was the first in.

Even Harry now found himself caught up in the party mood and dive-bombed Danny, who nearly went through the tile floor of the pool. Floaties were brought out, everybody jumped in, and Dougie refused to let go of the side for fear of drowning, confessing in a moment of desperation that he never learnt how to swim.

Sitting on the side behind him, Cassie lovingly picked him up and launched him in the middle before following closely behind.

"Now that," Matt commented, "Is a true- to- heart relationship."

"Their love is solid as rock," Harry agreed.

"Dougie's is, at least," Danny grinned impishly, "_If _you know what I mean."

"Everybody always knows what you mean,Dan, seeing as how the two dimensions you think in consist of sex and food."

* * *

It was seven in the evening, and all was well.

If by well you meant no deaths and/or fatal casualties, that is.

Contrary to Harry's vision of a suicide- inducing party living well into the early hours of the morning, everybody seemed knocked out for the night. Bodies were slumped on chairs, the floor and even- in the case of a one Dougie Poynter- on top of other bodies (speaking of which, Harry made a point to check on Cassie and whether or not she was still breathing, because having Dougie sleep on top of you was no casual pasttime. The boy weighed a _ton_).

"I think we survived." Tom said cautiously from across the room. Harry nodded, smiling as he bent to pick up Izzy.

"I'm gonna put her in the guest room, okay?"

"Go for it. You can stay with her... the rest of 'em can sleep here."

"Right."

Harry turned and carried Izzy, bridal style, up the two flights of stairs to the bedroom. He placed her on the bed and sat next to her, releasing the breath he's subconsciously been holding all afternoon.

To the empty room, he said, in a tone of amazement, "I cannot believe nothing got broken today."

From downstairs, there came a huge crash followed by the haunting sound of James' laughter.

And balance, Harry thought as he lay down next to Izzy, is restored to the universe.


End file.
